


For the Moment

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Hermione has just given birth to a son when his father appears.





	

Hermione held the tiny bundle close and examined the baby boy within. He stared back at her and moved his limbs with new, feeble muscles. Hermione carefully tightened his blanket, making him feel more secure and his pale eyes blinked closed in sleep. 

 

Overwhelmed by exhaustion and emotions, Hermione felt tears well in her eyes and slip down her cheeks. She let her head fall back onto the starch-white hospital pillow to rest while the new little person in the crook of her arm slept.

 

“You look just like him,” she murmured.

 

Awhile later, Hermione awoke to the feeling of someone squirming beside her. She sat up and pulled her baby close, smiling and cooing as he gave a raspy cry. She parted her gown down the front to feed him and yawned.

 

“Hello,” said a familiar voice.

 

Hermione’s head snapped towards the wizard seated so still in the corner that she hadn’t even noticed him. She felt the blood drain from her face as her sluggish brain attempted to reason how he’d found her. Did he know? Hermione hugged her son a little tighter and pulled a blanket over her shoulder to cover herself.

 

“Malfoy,” she finally replied, voice sounding strained. She met his pale gaze and felt her Gryffindor strength waiver. Why did she feel so vulnerable? Belatedly, she attempted to recall what she’d done with her wand.

 

“Boy or girl?” he asked.

 

Hermione pursed her lips, arms shaking. “Why are you here?”

 

Draco’s brows drew together and the first sign of anger appeared as his cheeks pinkened.

 

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked in a low tone.

 

Hermione was mortified to feel tears in her eyes, again. Unable to think clearly and still sleep-deprived from giving birth just hours ago, she could only repeat herself.

 

“Why are you here?” she asked, pained. Her son chose that moment to gurgle and wiggle; Hermione gently resettled him in her arms. She looked up to find Draco staring at the boy with fear and awe.

 

“ _Someone_ should be here,” he finally whispered.

 

Hermione examined Draco, her initial distress subsiding. It didn’t appear as though he meant to cause a scene or fight. He shifted restlessly in the plastic chair; perhaps, uncomfortable in a Muggle suit.

 

“It’s a boy,” she said.

 

Draco’s eyes seemed to pierce her. Hermione swallowed. The depth of his emotions was something that had always attracted her. He hid them well, appearing cold on the outside, but she’d learned the little signs that predicted how he felt. Today, they were more apparent. His eyes widened with awe and his lips curved in a grin.

 

“We have a son.”

 

Since when were they a ‘we?’ Hermione struggled to set aside her questions and enjoy the fact that Draco Malfoy wasn’t arguing with her. Despite their history of animosity, the wizard had tracked her down in Muggle society and was sitting with her in a Muggle hospital. Granted, she had just given birth to their child.

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” she admitted.

 

Draco appeared to be mulling over something. They cautiously observed each other while he thought.

 

“Potter punched me this morning. That’s how I found out.”

 

Hermione burst into laughter but quickly quieted when the baby squalled at her sudden noise. She cuddled him back to sleep, still chortling. Her humor was cut short when she noticed Draco standing over her.

 

He peered at the tiny face and Hermione gently settled the baby in his arms. She filled with hot guilt to see Draco holding the tiny bundle.

 

“I should have told you,” she admitted aloud.

 

“Damn right,” he whispered, conscious of the little boy’s sensitivity to noise.

 

Draco sat beside her on the narrow bed and she scooted over to give him more room. To her surprise, he squished in closer to lay beside her and Hermione was washed in his scent. She took a deep breath, filling with sudden happiness. It felt good to be with her son and his father – like a family. Hermione stopped herself there. Draco did not want a family; particularly, not with her.

 

At that moment, Hermione decided to let go. Since their mad, drunken night together, she’d beat herself up for sleeping with him, a known whore of a wizard. When she’d discovered herself pregnant, she decided to keep the baby because she was lonely and unlikely to find a wizard to whom she wanted to dedicate herself. Hermione never considered that Draco had an interest in fatherhood. That he was next to her, holding their son spoke different. So, Hermione let go and allowed the situation to be what it was. She simply enjoyed the moment.

 

“He looks just like you,” Hermione yawned, using Draco’s arm as a pillow. She fell asleep, lulled by the proximity of the wizard and their child.

 

Several hours later, Hermione awoke, disoriented. She was no longer in an antiseptic hospital room; the darkness was slivered by moonlight through emerald curtains. Her heart sped as she climbed out of the unfamiliar bed and experienced mild abdominal pain. Shouldn’t she be in more pain?

 

“Where..? Where is he?” she asked, stumbling towards the door.

 

It swung open and a house-elf shrieked. “Back in bed, Miss!”

 

“Where’s my baby?” Hermione demanded. “I want my son, right now!”

 

“I fetch him – I fetch him and Master – you’re safe, Miss,” the House-elf scurried away too quickly for Hermione to follow. Her head spun and she leaned on the wall for support for a moment.

 

“Hermione, you should rest,” said a familiar voice.

 

Hermione couldn’t account for the relief that filled her to see Draco walking down the corridor, holding a familiar bundle.

 

“I want to hold him,” she said, still clinging to the wall.

 

“Lie down, first,” Draco replied, nodding towards the room she’d just left.

 

“Are we in the manor?” Hermione asked, retracing her unsteady steps. She felt Draco’s hand beneath her arm and allowed him to guide her back to the bed.

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

Hermione held her baby while Draco tucked her back in. She marveled silently at the wizard’s apparent kindness. She would never have guessed him capable. As a Medi-Auror, she cleaned up after Aurors like Draco, and she knew him to be particularly ruthless. The majority of their arguments centered on the unnecessary harshness of his spell-use and the damage he caused.

 

“Where is my wand?” she asked.

 

“I’ll see you have everything you need,” he responded, smoothing a finger down his son’s patch of white hair.

 

“I need my wand,” she countered.

 

Draco scowled. “Don’t- _please_ don’t leave,” he amended.

 

Hermione stared hard at him. “I wasn’t thinking about leaving. I just want my wand.”

 

“It’s beside you, Hermione,” Draco answered, his face carefully blank.

 

The room was glowing with light and Hermione saw that her belongings were folded neatly on the bedside table, wand directly atop. She picked it up with a happy sigh.

 

“I bring soup!” chirruped a House-elf as it pattered through the door, a steaming bowl balanced on its head.

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said kindly. She watched Draco move her clothes so that the House-elf could set down the soup and spoon. She noted that the elf was clean and happy. What a difference from Dobby! Of course, she’d been told that Dobby was strange in many ways.

 

“I brewed a potion for you – to help with pain,” Draco offered. He set a glass beside the soup. “I’ll hold him while you eat.”

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly. She couldn’t equate this calm, kind wizard with the one she knew.

 

“I appreciate you taking us into your home,” she began, enjoying the rich soup.

 

“Thought I’d leave you in that Muggle madhouse?” Draco smirked.

 

Rather than argue with the pure-blood about Muggle medicine, Hermione ate more soup. The sight of the tall, blond cradling and cooing to his son tugged at heartstrings Hermione didn’t know that she possessed. She blinked away tears.

 

“What’s going to happen, now?”

 

Draco looked at her with quirked brows and, for once, his face was not guarded.

 

“You’re staying here.”

 

“But what about-” Hermione blurted before she could stop herself.

 

“About?” Draco prompted, curious.

 

“Your witches,” Hermione finished, feeling hollow.

 

Draco smirked again and turned his attention to the baby; “They can’t come.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Hermione scowled, crossing her arms.

 

She had Draco’s focus again; he pointed a finger and transfigured a footstool into a rocking chair. “Keep eating. …You don’t know..?”

 

Hermione stubbornly refused to eat until they got through this discussion. Her stomach growled and she frowned harder.

 

“Know what?”

 

Draco’s calm only served to madden her further. He appeared utterly carefree as he rocked with their son.

 

“It was all for show – the witches.”

 

Hermione’s mind sputtered in confusion. But, he dated a new witch every week! And every witch gushed about Draco’s skills in the boudoir! She stared at him, denial and embarrassment mingling together. Was it possible his legendary string of witches was ‘for show?’

 

“I couldn’t risk being intimate with any of them… They didn’t want me for me.”

 

Hermione blinked at him, aghast. She picked up her soup and began eating.

 

“And you think that I do?”

 

She looked up to find Draco grinning at her with a strange wistfulness.

 

“I know you do.”

 

Hermione’s heart stuttered. He knew. She finished her soup and drank the potion. Lethargy stole over her and Hermione snuggled down into the comforter. She was fuzzily aware of Draco settling the sleeping baby beside her.

 

“You should have told me, Hermione. You wouldn’t have been alone…”

 

As Draco pressed his lips to her cheek, Hermione turned her head to catch him in a kiss. He kissed her back.

 

“I’m not, now,” she smiled sleepily, content.

 

And, for the moment, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Written 10/6/16 in one sitting. I'm not sure where it came from but it flowed, fast.


End file.
